


Making Amends

by Apollo_Xandos



Category: Alexander (2004), Alexander Trilogy - Mary Renault, Alexander the Great - Fandom, Classical Greece and Rome History & Literature RPF, Historical RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-20 19:21:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17628161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apollo_Xandos/pseuds/Apollo_Xandos
Summary: After Hephaistion and Alexander’s quarrel, Alexander puzzles over how to acknowledge his friend’s importance, both to him but also in the army, and Hephaistion’s men speak up for him. Alexander’s POV. #3 of the Phoenician Trilogy.





	1. Petition

**Author's Note:**

> I broke the toys; I’m fixing them. This explains how Hephaistion got to appoint the new king of Sidon. Yes, there’s a sex scene, but there’s a fair bit of politics/military, too. This concludes my accidental Phoenician Trilogy (e.g., my “I had no intention of writing three stories when I started” tale).

“You kicked him out of your goddamn quarters?”

“What? No. Did he _say_ that?” Alexander glared at Perdikkas.

“Not exactly. What he did say, he said in confidence.”

Perdikkas was Hephaistion’s closest friend outside Alexander, and he’d barged into the king’s office in his Byblos house. “Out,” he'd yelled at the secretaries, who'd looked first to the king. Alexander had nodded, shooing them away.

Now, Alexander had perched himself on the desk he’d been using. “If you won’t tell me what he said, why do you expect me to just blurt out what I said to him?”

“He’s fucking miserable and I have to deal with him. He just chewed out Seleukos for essentially nothing. I need to hear your side of the story.”

“Suck my dick.”

“Shit-eater.”

They glared at each other, then Perdikkas relented and continued, “Look, you’re friends with us both. I won’t tell him what you said, or tell you what he said.”

“You’ll just play fucking mediator.”

“Well somebody clearly needs to be the adult in the room.”

“I didn’t kick him out!” Alexander spread his arms wide. “I said he could come to my rooms any time, the same as always.”

“But he has to keep his own rooms? That’s not the same as always. He’s never actually slept in the tent you assigned him.”

“Well, obviously you already know what I told him, so why are you asking me?”

“I wanted to see if maybe he misunderstood. He doesn’t always listen well when he gets worked up.”

True enough. With strangers, or his men, he kept a level head, but he had a temper, and with people he cared about, or conversely, who annoyed him, he could fly off the handle, as he’d apparently done with Seleukos, one of the other Hypaspist _lochogoi_ and, like Perdikkas, an old schoolmate from Mieza. But a schoolmate he didn’t like as well. They’d quarreled as boys and continued to quarrel as men. He could be a tetchy pain in the ass sometimes.

“Look, if I take a mistress to get an heir, the army needs to see her in my quarters. That means Hephaistion can’t be. I’m not putting him aside. He did _that_ all on his own.”

“Holy Zeus! You’re both stiff-necked idiots with too much pride. A perfect pair!” Perdikkas stomped around the office, kicking a random chair onto its back.

It had been two days since Hephaistion had left. Just that morning, Alexander had received a dispatch from Sidon, affirming that the city would open its gates to him. In another three days, they’d proceed south.

“Rumor says,” Perdikkas continued, “that you’re about to pull a Philip, and you’ll have a pretty new Page in your bed soon.”

“Why in all of Hades would I do that after so long?”

“You’re slow to mature? I don’t know, but it’s the rumor.”

“I figured the _rumor_ would be that I’m taking a mistress.”

“That hardly excludes a Page. And maybe you should fucking think about that, with regard to Hephaistion.”

“That’s what I told _him_ , Perdikkas! Taking a mistress doesn’t affect us. He’s the one who moved his things back to his tent.”

“But you intend to give him his own quarters in Sidon?”

“I have to.”

“No,” Perdikkas replied, hands on hips. “You don’t. Not really.”

“I can’t have a mistress and my lover in the same damn house!”

“Why not? Philip did it often enough. Plus all those wives in the women’s rooms.”

“And we all saw how well that turned out.”

“It worked well enough until the last one.”

“You say that only because you didn’t have to listen to my mother on a regular basis.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “No, I’m not going to do it. It would insult Barsine.”

“So you’d rather insult Hephaistion?”

“I’m not insulting Hephaistion!”

“That’s not what the army’s saying. They think you put him aside and are getting ready to demote him.”

“Fuck that. They’ll find out they’re wrong. He didn’t get his position in the first place because he’s my lover. Why would I take it away if he isn’t?”

Perdikkas righted the chair he’d kicked over, then plopped down in it. “Alexander, a lot of people think he _did_ get his position because he’s your lover.”

“Then they’re stupid.”

“Doesn’t change what they think.”

“But if he got his position, like you, because he was the son of the King of Orestis, that would be okay?”

Perdikkas’s face went hard. “I command the Orestian _sarissophoi_ because I’m their _prince_ , even if we now serve the King of Macedon. That’s tradition. Just like you command the army because you’re Philip’s son.”

Alexander resisted grinning. Hephaistion wasn’t the only one who could be tetchy. “And my point is made. You were _born_ to it—yes, like me. You’re good at it, but you were born to it. Hephaistion earned his place in the Hypaspists because he fights like a fucking maniac.”

“He is a fucking maniac when he wants to impress you, or protect you.” But Perdikkas seemed mollified on the other front. “Unfortunately, the assumption is that he did earn it in your bed. Now he’s not in your bed, so the men expect him to be moved somewhere less prestigious. Kinda like Pausanias.”

Picking up a stylus from the desk, Alexander threw it at the wall, chipping painted plaster. “Pausanias got another boy _killed_. That’s why he was demoted. Then the crazy bastard murdered my father.”

“I’m just telling you what’s being said. Usually that’s not my job. It’s his. Except I doubt he’s _really_ told you everything the men say behind his back, and sometimes to his face.”

Alexander took a deep breath and blew out, staring at the room’s rush flooring. Perdikkas was probably right. Hephaistion rarely whined, and when he did, it was about small shit, like the other night, when he’d recounted his bad day, because everybody had bad days. Alexander was aware people talked but had thought a lot driven by jealous rivals.

Walking over, he fingered the new crack in the wall plaster. “When you say ‘the men,’ exactly what do you mean? How many is ‘the men’? Just some of the officers, like Seleukos, and his backers?”

“Holy Hera, you’re dense. It’s more than _half the fucking army_ , Alexander.”

The king spun to stare. “ _What?_ ”

“You didn’t realize?”

Alexander was genuinely gobsmacked. “I knew people talked, but I didn’t realize it was that widespread.”

“By Herakles! He hasn’t told you a goddamn thing, has he? Get your sheltered head out of your royal ass. _My lord_.”

“He just let it go on?”

“What was he supposed to do?”

“Tell me!”

“So you could get all offended on his behalf and make some idiotic royal pronouncement that nobody would believe and would probably make it worse?”

Rising, Alexander stalked around, a hand in his hair. Perdikkas was right; that’s exactly what he’d have done, because he loved Hephaistion. But he had to do something, and bringing Hephaistion back to his rooms clearly wasn’t it. “I should have moved him out when he was first named _lochogos_.”

“Wouldn’t have made any difference in how they thought he got the position. At least when he was sleeping in your rooms, he was spared some of the camp gossip.”

“His _men_ don’t say these things—?”

“No, his men are more likely to start fights defending him.”

Well, at least there was that, if not the “starting fights” part.

“What are you going to do?” Perdikkas asked.

“I don’t know yet. Something to shut them all the fuck up.”

 

***

 

“If it will please my king to hear my case?” It was the formal request for a royal adjuration.

Alexander nodded for the Hypaspist to approach.  This was open court day, a long tradition in Macedonia where the king heard appeals on prior cases, or new ones that had arisen on the road with the army.  While on the one hand, Alexander valued the opportunity to listen to the rank and file, on the other, he worried this couldn’t, pragmatically, continue much longer.  His increasing duties made finding such days difficult. This was but one of two allocated this month. Last night, his throne had been set up at the center of the camp outside Sidon, to herald open court. The only rule was “first come, first serve,” so they’d started lining up before midnight, he was told. It was now past noon, and he doubted he’d get through everybody before sunset, though he’d have to stop sooner. Even with breaks for food and to take a piss, his back was killing him from sitting almost all day.

“Proceed, Herakleides.” He knew the petitioner well; he was Hephaistion’s second.

“My lord king, how would you rule on a situation wherein a loyal officer was demoted through no fault of his own, but only because he’d lost the favor of his commander?”

Alexander went very still and just stared at the man. “I would need to know more about the situation.”

Herakleides was sweating. “He’s a good commander, fair. His men will speak for him if required. Otherwise, I came as their voice.”

Fine, they’d play this game. “Has the man already been demoted?”

“No, sir.”

“Then why do you assume he will be?”

Herakleides’s eyes slid sideways. “That’s the rumor.”

“Why are you listening to rumors instead of asking his commanding officer the truth?”

He held Herakleides’s gaze and the man’s sweating got worse. Hephaistion had said, more than once, that Alexander had a terrible glare, thunderous. Most men reacted like Herakleides. Hephaistion would have boxed his ear or given him a camel kiss.

“Do you want to ask me something, Herakleides?”

“Please don’t demote our commander, sir.”

“I had no plans to do so.” A new, ugly thought occurred to him. “He didn’t put you up to this?”

“What? No!” Fear shifted abruptly to startled outrage. “He has no idea I’m here. His file…we talked and decided I should come.”

So Alexander’s first assumption had been correct, and Perdikkas had been right about Hephaistion’s men.

Perhaps all this could be turned into an opportunity, halting the shit running out of mouths around camp. Speaking loudly enough to be heard by everyone near his throne, he announced, “Hephaistion Amyntoros earned his position by bravery in combat. He was nominated by Admetos himself, Commander of the Hypaspist _agema_ , and I confirmed it. Unless he does something dishonorable or shows cowardice—which I doubt—he’ll keep his rank and probably advance higher. Anyone who thinks otherwise insults _me_ , and my judgement as king. That’s all I have to say on the matter.”

Although it wasn’t all he planned to _do_ about the matter. He had a fresh idea.

“You may go, Herakleides. Next?”


	2. Facing Off

“I don’t know whether to thank you or slug you.”

“How about neither? I just listened to a complaint and responded.” He looked over at his friend, who’d come to the house Alexander had taken in Sidon, requesting to see the king.

Like he needed to ask.

True to his word, Alexander had assigned Hephaistion quarters not far from his, though Hephaistion had offered to stay in camp like the rest of his men. Most _lochogoi_ , even among the Hypaspists, weren’t high enough to expect town quarters, but Alexander had made arrangements for all the _agema lochogoi_ to have them, even though it meant some were bunked five to a house, including Hephaistion. It was still better than a tent. After his frank conversation with Perdikkas, Alexander gave more thought to how things looked. Yet he fully intended to keep his promises, even if he and Hephaistion weren’t talking. Much.

Alexander had come back here after hearing cases. It was sunset, and he was due soon at dinner. He hadn’t expected Hephaistion, but as far as he was concerned, the sun could halt his progress across the sky for this. One advantage of being the king: it was impossible for him to be “late.”

“Out,” he told his servants, who’d been laying fresh clothes for supper and preparing a bath.

When the men were gone, he crossed to stand in front of his friend, but not so close he had to lift his chin significantly to meet his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me things were as bad as they are?”

“What do you mean?”

“Camp talk. It took Perdikkas to clue me in?”

Hephaistion just shrugged, glancing away. He hadn’t been on duty, so he wasn’t carrying all his equipment, but he still wore his cuirass and girdle plates, and his sword. “People say what they want. I don’t pay attention to nonsense. Those who matter know the truth.”

“Do they? Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“I’ve done exactly what I said I would, back in Byblos. You have quarters near me, and my own are open to you at any time. You didn’t have to _ask_ to come in, you know. And she’s not in my bedroom, is she? I go to hers. Do you believe me now, that I’m not displacing you?”

Hephaistion sighed out, but didn’t reply, just stared at something behind Alexander. Light from the setting sun fell in a high window, striking his hair and pulling out reddish highlights in the dark brown. Despite the winter weather, he wasn’t wearing a long-sleeved tunic and Alexander could see the new scar on his bicep. It had gone from red to pink, healing well.  The scar on his heart, however, still put dark circles under his eyes from apparent lack of sleep.

It had been two weeks since they’d touched. Alexander wanted him badly. If there was any upside to this whole mess, it had made him horny enough to do his duty with Barsine. They’d had sex three times since she’d joined him in Sidon. She was a good enough lover, if not any more enthusiastic than he was. They both knew what this was about. He’d leave her after and return to his own rooms, and wish his sheets smelled like Hephaistion.

“I miss you,” he said now.

Hephaistion’s gaze shifted, his mouth rueful. “If you think you’re going to seduce me, you’re not. I’m still…upset.”

“You’re still angry.”

“I’m not angry. I’m upset. Unhappy.”

“Fuck it!” Spinning away, Alexander stalked all around the bedroom. He’d been here almost a week but hadn’t unpacked much. They’d be on the road again soon. He had chests that were short term, and those that he only unloaded if they were staying somewhere for more than a handful of days.

He looked back at Hephaistion, who remained near the bedroom door. His posture was stiff, one hand hooked in his belt, the other on the door handle, as if ready to flee.

They’d fought before. They had tempers. Usually it blew up fast and subsided equally quickly, perhaps with broken furniture or something more than shouts. Hephaistion had given him a swollen lip once; that had been interesting to explain. But nothing lasting, and it was buried when it was over. That was their rule. They battled it out, and then it was done.

No quarrel had ever lasted this long. He wasn’t sure what to do or how to break the stalemate. “Do you really want to move back in with me? Given everything that’s apparently being said—that you didn’t tell me about? I should have made you keep your own quarters long ago.”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

Perdikkas had argued the same, and they were both probably right.

“What you said this morning helped more,” Hephaistion admitted. “That’s why I came, to thank you.”

“Or slug me.”

“Part of me wants to do that, too.”

“And you said you weren’t angry.”

Hephaistion tilted his head. “All right, I lied. I am. A little. Mostly, I’m unhappy.” He hesitated, hand closing on the door handle, turning it, then letting it go. “I miss you, too.”

Alexander crossed the floor to slam into him, knocking him backwards into the wall. They were chest to chest, Alexander’s hands on his shoulders, and this close, the king had to look up half a foot. Hephaistion didn’t resist, but he didn’t grip Alexander back, either, and had turned his face sideways, even though Alexander was too short to kiss him easily unless he helped. Right now, Alexander wasn’t sure he wanted to kiss him, even while he desperately wanted to. “What do I have to do to prove I’m not dicking around?”

“I don’t know,” Hephaistion replied. He looked defeated, and exhausted, emotionally wrung. “I’m not sure there’s anything to prove. I’m trying to come to terms with a reality that’s been there a while, I just didn’t want to face it.”

He finally looked down at Alexander. “You’re king. You’re going to become Great King if you can catch Darius and kill him. You’re going to have to get married, not just keep a woman, and probably marry several times. More, you’re going to be running an empire, not just a kingdom, and it’ll keep you fucking busy. We’ve just started to get a taste of that, and I’m not sure where I fit into any of it. We’re not boys anymore, Alekos, sharing a room at Mieza. That game’s played out.”

He’d started to cry, eyes red, tears welling. So had Alexander, who let go of his shoulders to grab his face. Yet Hephaistion remained tense, resisting Alexander’s pull. “It wasn’t a _game_ , _agapete_. It’s never been a game for me. Has it for you?” Hephaistion could work himself up over nothing. “And no, we’re not boys, but I still love you just as much, and after ten fucking years of feeling the same way about the same person, I’m pretty damn sure that won’t change. I don’t know where you fit, either, but I’ll find a place. I’ll cut it out of my own side, if I have to.” Finally, Hephaistion stopped resisting and let Alexander pull his head down to touch brow to brow. “We’ll figure it out,” he told him, “make up the rules as we go, because I can’t do this without you, _agapete_.”

Hephaistion sobbed once and gave in, hugging Alexander finally.

It was over. Alexander clasped him hard, although the damn armor was in the way. He turned his attention to the fastenings on the cuirass. “Get this off so I can fuck you silly. Who knows you’re here?”

“Your guard? Your servants? My hosts? Why?”

“I had an idea earlier, but it’ll help if nobody realizes we’re doing this. At least not yet.”

“Doing what?”

“What do you think, you big, beautiful idiot? If I had any sense, I’d send you out and wait but I’m out of patience and I need your body _right now_.”

“Same here.” Cuirass and girdle-plates off, they both worked at each other’s belts and chiton pins. Hephaistion wasn’t wearing greaves, at least, and Alexander had been dressed in his usual day wear, without armor. It didn’t take long to get naked. “If you don’t want anybody to know we’re doing this, we’ll have to be quiet,” Hephaistion said.

Alexander grinned, running fingers through the dark hair on Hephaistion’s chest. It made twin fans on his upper pecs. Alexander didn’t have much chest hair. “Like back at Mieza. You remember trying to keep it secret from Aristotle?”

“Everybody knew, even Aristotle.”

“Of course, but we thought we were so clever.”

“Shut up.” Hephaistion kissed him, hard, then steered him over to a chair without arms in a corner. “Sit, _zoi mou_.”

“Not the bed?”

“Not for this. Where’s the strap?”

“Small chest over there,” Alexander pointed. He knew which of them was going to be in charge of this reconciliation. Seated naked in the chair, his erection stuck up like the boy’s in the bottom of his drinking cup. “The oil’s in there, too. I didn’t get it out.” Without Hephaistion, there had been no reason.

Hephaistion searched through the chest and came back with both items, looking around for a place to secure the strap, finally climbing on the bed to sling the hook over one of the roof struts and adjust the length to the proper height. Alexander moved the chair under it. “You’re all right for this?” Alexander asked.

“Yeah, I’m clean. Haven’t been eating much.”

“Me, either.”

Hephaistion knelt in front of him, pouring oil from the little jar into Alexander’s lap and spreading it liberally on Alexander’s cock, using the opportunity to fondle all around the head with slippery fingers. Alexander’s hips flexed, urethra leaking. “Not too much of that,” he warned, “or I’ll be done before we get started.”

Hephaistion just grinned, looking up through long lashes in a way he must know left Alexander at his mercy. But he handed over the jar and rose. “Your turn.” Standing, he straddled Alexander’s lap.

Alexander put oil in his palm, then spread it behind Hephaistion’s balls and all around his anus before slipping a finger inside, sawing in and out a bit until a second finger followed the first.  Reaching up to grip the strap with a hand, the other on Alexander’s shoulder, Hephaistion closed his eyes and leaned back onto Alexander’s fingers. Alexander watched his face while feeling around for his walnut. Hephaistion’s whispered, “Shit,” told him when he’d found it. His big cock was purple and insistent, and Alexander used his free hand to massage the shaft, then bent to lick away the bead of precum on the end. “Oh, fuck!” Hephaistion yelped.

“Shhh.”

“Right.”

Alexander added a third finger, and kept licking all around the head.

“I’m going to fucking blow like Mt. Etna,” Hephaistion whispered.

Stopping, Alexander removed his hand.  “That fast?”

“It’s been two weeks!”

“You’ve had your hands.”

“I haven’t had _you_.”

“On me then.”

Still gripping the strap, Hephaistion lowered himself carefully. He was nicely slick and Alexander breathed out when his cock head popped past the tight sphincter muscles. Hephaistion held still a moment, letting both their bodies adjust, then dropped down fast.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” Alexander said, face pushed against Hephaistion’s neck. He was clinging to Hephaistion’s naked back. For another moment, they held still, then Hephaistion leaned away to get Alexander’s cock at the right angle on the anterior wall of his rectum. Alexander slipped a hand between their bodies to find Hephaistion’s cock. It was a little less rigid but firming up again. He gave it a few strokes.

Using the strap for leverage, Hephaistion began riding Alexander, up and down, his mouth open as he panted. Alexander gripped his hips and rocked with his rhythm while they stared at each other. Sometimes, one would lean forward for a kiss, but mostly they just watched arousal flush each other’s faces, or Alexander’s cock sliding in and out of Hephaistion. Despite the winter chill, Hephaistion was sweating, beads running down his neck from his hairline. This was why face-to-face sex in a chair—or on a table—was his favorite position: he liked watching. Moving a hand from one hip to Hephaistion’s cock, Alexander jerked him rapidly. Hephaistion dropped his head back, speeding up, his hand behind him now on Alexander’s knee while the other clung to the strap.

This was what he’d needed, this slick tightness at the entry, not the looser grip of Barsine. Rigid belly muscles and firm pecs and callused fingers gripping his leg, and best of all, the intimacy of being deep in his lover. The only noise besides their heavy breathing was the sound of skin slapping when their bodies met. It was rough enough that Hephaistion would probably be sore later, but he was controlling this. They bit at mouths now more than kissed, like they were foxes mating.

Alexander’s sex tension had been spiraling and he couldn’t really think anymore, just needed to hit that peak.  Closer, closer, closer…. Then, almost without warning, he was there, grabbing Hephaistion’s hips to hold him still while he emptied himself, swallowing a cry. Hephaistion held on, riding him out. Alexander pulled his head down to kiss him, then urged him to stand up again, off Alexander’s lap.

That put his groin almost level with Alexander’s face and Alexander grabbed his butt cheeks to pull him forward, then angled his cock down a little and opened his mouth to take him in. Hephaistion groaned but tried to pull away. “I don’t want you below me doing that.”

Alexander yanked him back. “Get your flat Athenian ass closer. I’m sitting, I’m not kneeling.” He looked up at him and licked him from base to tip.

“Oh, holy Aphrodite,” Hephaistion muttered, head falling back, mouth open again.

Alexander went to work with both hands and his mouth.  He slid two fingers back inside Hephaistion’s anus, well-lubricated from Alexander’s seed, and rubbed his walnut while licking all over Hephaistion’s cock, pausing now and then to concentrate on the head. Hephaistion was almost sobbing from the pleasure. This was only the fourth or fifth time they’d done this, but it was enough for Alexander to decide he really liked it, especially if he wanted to slow his lover down. It was intense, but as Hephaistion had said before, not intense enough to drive him fast over the edge. And if Alexander varied the speed, even pausing now and then, and also gripped the base of Hephaistion’s shaft hard, he could keep Hephaistion on that edge longer, like he was doing now.

Hephaistion’s legs were trembling and he was muttering, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” over and over, both hands on Alexander’s shoulders, squeezing. They didn’t need the strap for this. Alexander opened his mouth and took in as much of Hephaistion’s shaft as he could, humming, while Hephaistion began to thrust, gently.

Hephaistion hadn’t been kidding, either; it took only about a dozen pushes before he was spilling. Alexander pulled his mouth away and used a hand to milk him. Seed was salty, and he didn’t like the taste, at least not in largish quantities, but he had better manners than to spit it out, even though Hephaistion had said he didn’t care. Alexander suspected he did care, and whatever the taste, he was taking something of his lover inside him, his most pure essence, if the Hippocratics were right.

“Thank you,” Hephaistion whispered now, sinking back into Alexander’s lap. They just held each other, Alexander’s arms around Hephaistion’s waist and Hephaistion’s around Alexander’s shoulders, foreheads pressed together. Alexander felt as if he’d dropped a large pack at the end of a very long march. He rubbed a thumb back and forth against the skin covering Hephaistion’s spine. They kissed a little but didn’t talk. They’d said everything they needed to, at least for the moment.

“All right,” Alexander whispered finally. “You need to get dressed and go. Don’t say anything to anybody yet. I’ve got this state dinner tonight, so I won’t see you again until tomorrow. I’ve a staff meeting before lunch. Attend.”

“A staff meeting with Parmenion and Krateros and the _taxiarchs_?” Alexander knew what he was thinking. Lowly file leaders didn’t attend staff meetings, and if Hephaistion certainly had sat in on some in the past, it had been only occasionally.

“Yes. Exactly. A letter came from Tyre today, while I was holding court, and we have some business to attend to, restoring Sidon to a working city before we leave.”

“All right. But why do you need me there?”

Alexander pushed him up and away. “You’ll see. And at least we’ll both get some sleep tonight finally.”

Hephaistion snorted, looking around for something to clean them both up. Alexander tossed him a rag, then stood and pulled his head down, kissing him quickly.

His world was right-side-up again.


	3. Staff Meeting

“Gentlemen,” Alexander said, sweeping into the large courtyard of his Sidon house, followed by his Somatophylakes.

This staff meeting involved enough men to require more space than available in any room here, and the courtyard had been designed to receive guests, with a handsome chair of inlaid ivory and mother-of-pearl set up under a covered porch.

Alexander didn’t sit in the chair, just as he was dressed no differently than his men: long-sleeved _chiton_ with a simple red border, his regular cloak—saffron with a purple border—and riding boots. All the highest officers in the army from the various _taxiarchs_ of infantry battalions to the commanders of allied troops, auxiliaries, and cavalry were in attendance. Parmenion took his position at Alexander’s right hand while the rest gathered around in a loose clump. Some of them were kings or descended from them, like Perdikkas, so Alexander had to assert his authority not just by blood, or for being the son of Philip.

He commanded by demonstrated _victory_ : at Granikos, then by the subjugation of Ionia, Lydia, and Karia, but most of all, his decisive win at Issos.

So his authority had grown with each success, yet these were still mostly his father’s officers. He couldn’t move too fast in replacing them. Nor did he want to get rid of all of them. They had years of experience, even if most of them lacked his flashes of brilliance.

He wasn’t modest. Princes couldn’t be, and for a king, modesty was deadly. He’d known for years that he had some special gift for strategy, as well as command.  The latter he’d been taught since he could toddle, but the former he just _had_. His father had seen it, because his father had had it, too, if not to the same degree. Alexander could look at a battlefield and devise the right strategy, like the solution to one of Aristotle’s mind-teaser puzzles. And it worked. It always worked.  He won, and won, and won again. Most of the men gathered here had begun to recognize what he could do, men like Krateros, one of Parmenion’s better officers, as well as Parmenion himself.

Yet a few still saw him as a boy, wet behind the ears, assigning his victories to fortune and his father’s army, as if one could put troops in the field like a child’s wind-up toy and assume they’d win without direction.  Those were the ones Alexander intended to start easing out, retiring some for age, or more often appointing them to administrative positions in his rear, elevating his own men into vacant slots.

But that meant his own choices had to have proved themselves with responsibility greater than commanding a file of sixteen men.

While greeting him, several of the officers glanced sidewise at the one standing quietly near the back, the only one who wasn’t of equal rank. He’d been to such meetings before, but rarely, and always as Alexander’s friend, sitting somewhere behind Alexander. Today, he’d come in separately from the king, and Alexander expected the others wanted to know what he was doing there.

“Another letter arrived from Tyre yesterday,” Alexander began. “They’re still refusing my request to visit the temple in their city, although mouthing platitudes about friendship. I think we need to prepare for the eventuality that we’ll be back on a war footing soon, and secure what we’ve already won in Syria.

“To that end, Parmenion,” he turned to the man on his right. “I’d like you to return to Damascus with a battalion and shore up Menon there, keep an eye on the treasury. You won it, so now it’s your job to guard it.” Grinning, he clapped the man on the shoulder. “Maybe enjoy a bit of it, too. I know you ran your best horse to death to get there after Issos. Find a new one, whatever the cost.”

“Don’t put me out to pasture with the horses,” Parmenion replied.

“Far from it. But I need to split up my army to keep the countryside subdued until the Levantine coast is ours. So I need my best general guarding the coin that’s paying for all of it.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Philotas said, half-laughing, but Alexander wasn’t amused. Neither was Philotas’s father.

“It’s a choice his father would have made,” Parmenion pointed out, which was high praise from the Old Man, and a verbal swat on the butt to a son too old now to turn over his knee.

Alexander ignored the exchange. “I’ll be sending Darius’s family back with you, at least until I have a better idea which way Tyre will jump.” He turned then to the man on his left. “Krateros, I’d like your battalion, and … Nikanor, give him an additional thousand from the Hypaspists—not the _agema_ —to range inland and clear out any bandits who’ve decided to set up shop, taking advantage of the chaos after Issos. That includes the traitor Amyntos Antiochou. If you catch him, don’t kill him. I want to do that personally.”

“I’ll deliver him to you with a bow, Alexander.” Krateros was grinning.

“ _If_ you can catch him,” Philotas added.

“Philotas, I’m going to geld you if you make one more wisecrack belittling a fellow officer,” Alexander warned.

That brought everything to a full stop. Alexander didn’t continue for ten breaths, then returned to his plans. The rest of the men avoided looking at Philotas, who was seething.

“The remainder of the army will stay in Sidon for a few more days to receive supplies to support us as we head south. Interestingly, Tyre did deliver supplies even if she’s playing cagey, which is why I’m not in a hurry to open hostilities. She might come around.”

“Tyre would be a hard nut to crack, so it’s wise to give them a chance,” Parmenion agreed.

“I’m not even sure where you’d start,” said Sitalkes, a Thracian prince. Alexander hadn’t been terribly sure of him until Granikos, as the Thracians had fought Macedonia as often as they’d been allies. But Sitalkes had proven himself at the river, and again at Issos, so he was now part of Alexander’s senior staff. “It’s a fucking island and we don’t have a fleet.”

“And it’s being supplied by the Persian fleet and Carthage, probably,” Menes added. “All the Phoenician boats are with Pharnabasos.”

“Tyre’s problem,” Alexander pointed out, “is her arrogance. Yes, she’s an island. She thinks that’s good enough.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Not if I make her part of the mainland.”

That brought another full stop. He studied their faces, some astonished, some just to the left of appalled, and a few edging toward laughter, assuming he was making a joke.

“Son, that’s…ambitious,” Parmenion said.

“Of course it is. This entire venture has been ambitious from the start. Why stop now?”

Krateros chuckled at that. A few others joined in, including Perdikkas and Sitalkes.

“How would you even do it?” Kleitos asked, but more as if curious than doubting.

“Build a mole.”

“That’s crazy talk.” But Kleitos was laughing.

“We’ll see how matters fall out with Tyre. All the other Phoenician cities are ours. She may decide it’s the better part of valor to join us. Pharnabasos lost part of his fleet at Kallipolis; he’s still out there, but weakened. Tyre may capitulate rather than try to hold us off without firm support from Persia.”

“It would be the smart thing to do,” Parmenion agreed.

“In any case, we need to prepare for the possibility of hostilities, which means we need to get the army back on the road, south.

“Yet with Stratos ousted, Sidon needs a king, one loyal to us. I don’t have time to mess with finding one, so I need somebody to do it for me, and who can also work with the local magistrates to send messages covertly to their ship captains still with the Persians. Pharnabasos probably won’t surrender, but let’s see if we can peel off some more of his ships. I had to give up our own fleet while we were in Ionia. I couldn’t afford to maintain it. Now, I can. As Sitalkes pointed out, I’ll need ships if I do have to attack Tyre.”

The men were looking back and forth, wondering who Alexander had in mind. Parmenion was assigned and Krateros was assigned. Philotas stepped forward. “I’ll do it. Cavalry can’t offer much on the water. You can spare me.”

“I already have someone in mind.”

Expressions turned quizzical, and Alexander nodded past them. “Hephaistion Amyntoros will find me a king, and get me a navy.”

Silence held for three beats, then the protests rained down like Persian arrows. Hephaistion’s olive complexion had paled. “Shut up,” Alexander said after a bit. He didn’t shout; he didn’t need to. Philotas seemed to be the angriest, like a child denied a treat he believed himself entitled to. But even commanders who hadn’t expected to get the command were clearly puzzled by Alexander’s choice—except perhaps Perdikkas. He was smirking, the bastard.

“Son, Hephaistion is a fine young officer,” Parmenion said finally, “but this is quite a responsibility.” Other men murmured. “Why not let a king choose a king? That would be appropriate. Leave Sitalkes here.”

“I need Sitalkes and his men at Tyre, especially if we do wind up in an assault. The Thracians fight like cornered wolves.” Pleased, Sitalkes grinned at that. “Battalion and auxiliary commanders belong at Tyre, or securing our rear and inland. Hephaistion, I can spare.”

Well, as an officer. At a personal level, it would be much more difficult. But he was moving pieces on the big board and didn’t want his men to see exactly what he was doing yet. A king for Sidon was, in the larger picture, not terribly important. Alexander would agree to whoever Hephaistion found; his friend was shrewd enough to pick someone decent. Getting a fleet was more important, and probably trickier, but Hephaistion had a certain gift for sweet-talk, and that pretty smile. This wasn’t the sort of situation likely to trigger his insecurities and make him combative.

Truth was, Alexander’s end goal wasn’t about getting a king, or even a fleet, it was about maneuvering his _Hypaspistes Oktopos_ and most trusted friend into a more prominent position.

“I’ll ask Admetos to find a temporary replacement,” he nodded to Admetos, standing in the back, “or better yet, leave Hephaistion his file as a garrison, and he can take care of matters here for me while we march towards Tyre.”

“He’s getting this because you’re fucking him,” Philotas snapped.

It was unbelievably blunt, even at a staff meeting, maybe especially at a staff meeting, and his own father moved towards him, but Alexander threw out his arm in front of Parmenion. Turning his gaze on Philotas, he took four steps forward, confronting him. He deliberately didn’t look at Hephaistion. Philotas seemed to realize he’d let his anger wag his tongue, but it was too late to take it back, so he just raised his chin slightly in challenge.

“I’m going to assume that was driven by disappointment. It was fucking unbecoming for an officer. As I said—just yesterday—Hephaistion was given his position in the Hypaspists at _Admetos’s_ nomination. Perhaps you’d like to take this up with Admetos?” Alexander gestured to the huge commander, who’d been mostly silent through the meeting. Admetos simply inclined his head towards his king. Alexander knew he liked Hephaistion.

“So, yes, Philotas, I chose a man who I’ve known since we were boys, almost as long as I’ve known you, and who is loyal to me. I’ve never made a secret of my affection for him. But my affection for him isn’t why he’s getting the job. In case you failed to notice, he and several other officers are quartering with a pair of young men from a prominent family here in Sidon. They just might be advantageous as advisors. He’s not _in_ this house and I’ve barely seen him for two weeks, so what influence you think he might be leveraging from my bedchamber you need to explain.”

Tension sparked like Zeus’s lightning. Even these officers, hardly strangers to conflict or confrontation, seemed to be holding their breath. A few had glanced at Hephaistion, who remained as silent as stone near the rear. Alexander would have liked to know what his face showed, but it would have been the worst thing in the world for Alexander to look.

Philotas dropped his eyes. He was going to back down, but he wouldn’t forget. On the one hand, Alexander hated that he’d made the challenge, but perhaps it had a silver lining, allowing Alexander to confront the whispers bluntly. He was sure Philotas hadn’t been convinced, and probably some of the others remained dubious, as well, yet now they’d have to protest his choice reasonably, not from spite.

And nobody did.

“We’re done here,” Alexander said. But he didn’t move away from Philotas. It was Philotas who had to back off. Parmenion was watching, clearly not happy with him. Krateros was watching, too, like a vulture. So were a few other officers, including Menes and Kleitos. At the highest levels, ambition was ruthless.

The staff meeting broke up. “Perdikkas, Hephaistion, Admetos, stay,” Alexander said. “Parmenion, Krateros, meet me in my office after you get something to eat. We’ll make plans.” To his Somatophylakes, he waved a hand, meaning they should retire out of hearing.

The rest filed out and Alexander motioned the remaining three closer. “Admetos, sorry to spring that on you. I didn’t want word to get out before I announced my decision. The Hypaspists will be on various duties if we have to go up against Tyre, but I’d like to leave a cohort back in Sidon, to discourage any mind-changing. The more I think about it, the more I think sixteen may not be enough, but I don’t want it to look threatening. What can you give me? Or really, give Hephaistion?”

The commander tilted his head thoughtfully. “If you want a serious presence but not a threatening one, then I’d say three files is plenty and it doesn’t leave me much reduced.” He glanced at Hephaistion. “You have a preference whose files?”

His friend still seemed a bit stunned, but he’d been with Alexander long enough to roll with punches. He just usually preferred to sit back and watch, and comment in private later. “Ariston son of Demetrios and Attalos son of Andromenes.”

“Good choices. You have your forty-eight.”

Hephaistion nodded. “Thank you.”

“Dismissed,” Alexander told the _agema_ commander. “I need to discuss details with these two.”

Admetos departed. The man was so tall, he had to duck his head to exit the house’s main entry.

“Why the _fuck_ didn’t you warn me?” Hephaistion snapped as soon as it was just the three of them.

“I didn’t want anyone to know before I did it,” Alexander admitted. He tilted his head. “And would you have shown up today if you’d been aware of what I was about to dump on you?” The question was only half jesting.

“You also like your theater.”

“Shut up, Hephaistion. You’re getting a promotion—or didn’t you figure that out yet?”

“Fuck off,” Hephaistion told Perdikkas without looking at him. He still held Alexander’s eyes.

“What Perdikkas said.  Your sixteen just went to forty-eight, and Admetos let you choose them. I notice Seleukos wasn’t one.”

“Fuck Seleukos.”

“You're Sidon’s new garrison commander, at least temporarily. You said it yourself, I need to keep troops in Byblos and Sidon, in case they change their minds.”

“And I have to pick a new king? How the fuck am I supposed to do that?”

“Get creative. Talk to your hosts. You’ll be fine.”

Perdikkas had been watching their exchange as if they were ball players batting a leather-stuffed bag back and forth. Now, Alexander turned to him. “I want you to stay here, too, for a couple weeks.”

“With my men?”

“No, put them under your second for the duration; we’re not fighting yet. Stay here and back him up.”

“I need a babysitter?” Hephaistion asked.

“No, but you might like some support. _You’re_ in charge.” He glanced at Perdikkas, who just nodded. Alexander was sure they both understood. All three of them were about the same age, but Perdikkas’s birth, like Alexander’s, had advanced him sooner. This was a chance for Perdikkas to throw his weight behind Hephaistion.

Alexander dropped his eyes a moment, then raised them and spoke to Hephaistion. “Sorry about saying I could spare you. I meant militarily.”

“I understood.”

“Perdikkas is right. I plan to advance you. After Issos, I need men I can trust. So this is my opportunity.”

“When are you leaving?” Alexander thought there might be more to his question than planning how he would proceed. Perdikkas was suddenly watching them both carefully.

“Not for three, four days, assuming everything goes according to plan.  I want to see off Parmenion and Krateros first.”

“I notice you’re sending the women back with Parmenion,” Perdikkas said.

“I don’t have a lot of choice. I can’t take them into a potential war. So yes, they’ll return to Damascus.”

“I’m sure she’ll be heartbroken,” Perdikkas added.

“Shut up, dickhead.” Hephaistion smacked his shoulder.

“And the two of you will need three or four days to make up for two weeks, too.”

Both Alexander and Hephaistion rounded on him at once. He just laughed. “It’s a good thing the others don’t know you two as well as I do. You’ve made up already, haven’t you? For how long?”

“Fuck off.” “Since yesterday.”

Alexander had been the honest one, but he had the freedom to be.

“Good thing Philotas didn’t know that. Now, I need to go talk to my officers. Hephaistion, speak with your hosts, and catch me later.”

And finally, it was just Alexander and Hephaistion. They faced off, both with hands on hips. “I may not forgive you for this for a while,” Hephaistion warned.

“For promoting you without warning, or making you stay here without me?”

“Both.”

“You said you didn’t know where you fit anymore. I’m trying to find a place for you. You advise me all the time; I know you’re perfectly capable of handling this, even if the others don’t yet. And I trust you.”

“And if I choose badly, it won’t matter.”

“You won’t choose badly. More importantly, _get me those ships_.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Cut it out.”

“That wasn’t a joke.” Hephaistion’s eyes were serious. “You are my king. And I won’t let you down. You’re sticking your neck out on this one, for me.”

Alexander felt the blood rise in his neck and ears. “I’ve got meetings all afternoon, probably won’t be done for hours, then I’ll visit Barsine for dinner. It’s necessary, especially if she’s going back to Damascus this soon.” He looked up. “Come late.”

“Sneak in and sneak out like yesterday?”

“No. I’ll just be busy until late. No sneaking. We are. People can get used to it. We don’t have a lot of time, either. I want as much as I can get.”

Hephaistion started to reach for his face, then dropped the hand, thinking better of it. Alexander grabbed his head and pulled him down to kiss. Once quick. Then he let go. “Later.”

Spinning, he headed up to his office and the many sets of orders he needed to draw up. It was going to be a long several months, but absolutely necessary. They could write. Plus Sidon wasn’t that far from Tyre, less than a day’s hard ride. Depending on how things went, they could steal the occasional meeting in the flesh. He’d been spoiled, as the last two weeks had taught him. He might appreciate what they had more if he didn’t get it as much.

But most of all, Hephaistion needed this assignment. Whatever else came of it, he wasn’t going back to simple _lochogos_ in the Hypaspists, even if it was in the _agema_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a lot of military-political stuff here. I reviewed Arrian and Curtius, and wanted to throw out a possible reason for Hephaistion’s advance after Issos. Prior to and even immediately after, he seems mostly Alexander’s personal friend. Important, but a friend. The Levantine campaign is where he’s finally given some authority. Alexander won at Granikos, but it could just have been a lark. Yet after his success in Asia Minor, then as Issos, he established himself and could think about switching out Philip’s officers for his own men, and the most important of these was, of course, Hephaistion.
> 
> On the strap (I bet some of you expected S/M, didn’cha?), these show up sometimes on naughty pottery, clearly meant for leverage.
> 
> This little trilogy is now finished. I’m not really a plot guy, so I don’t think long term, and never intended to write three stories when I posted the first, but I hope readers liked the ride.


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